For our loyal followers of the past half decade of readership, you will be pleased to know that I settled my loss of the weight contest with Jaron; one all-you-can-eat sushi for the winner (minus paying for the booze!) Thankfully an amendment to the original contract language was approved -- instead of having me lose 20 lbs prior to the lunch taking place we agreed it would happen after Jaron reached his goal. I unofficially lost zero grapefruit, with a few liberal judges recording a two pound gain by the end of the contest. Either way, it was a great lunch! I'm glad we finished our lunch prior to the sushi chef and my partner engaging in a bizarre, yet comforting, cross culture bonding rite through broken English and a tradition of warm plum sake shots.
Now that schedules are back to the mundane, the Practitioner of Pain and I will continue to poke fun at the herd mentality in fitness (look out Crossfit snake oil salesmen, we have a mission to prove its a gross distortion of truth and doctored results.) And we'll continue making numerous visits to the comic well that keeps on giving; Western Society's pursuit for the shorter, faster magic formula for weight loss. So until #101, we at No Fat Jokes Please want to thank you for putting up with us for the past few years and hope the next 100 will be as confusing and bush league as the first 100.
Let's see, in the past 100 posts, has anyone truly escaped our vitriol? If so, I'm sure your turn awaits. It has been a roller coaster ride to be sure! Some of our biases have been vilified, see the class action settlement against foot gloves. Some will undoubtedly go wanting, see the ever increasing popularity of Tough Mudders and the illegitimate exercise cult known as Crossfit. Through it all we mean only to poke the bear for comic effect, while exalting sound principles of fitness and nutrition. Oddly, thinking back, we don't discuss nutrition much, except to rail about indiscretions and common vices fulfilled and unfulfilled. 2014 has not been kind to our collective success in the gym, but I'm glad Ole JT has a new light at the end of the tunnel on which to focus. As his doctor of the sadistic gym equivalent of frat boy hazing, I suggest, dear readers, you strap in, buy the ticket and take the ride with us once again. These next several months may get weird yet! Try not to read too much sarcasm into this, but thank you all for coming this far. Next chapter...
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